Pops

"And he works his land with a knowing hand..Thought it's very small he makes it grow so well."

I woke up this morning feeling extra sleepy (I need to stop reading Jane Austen till after midnight!). I got the backpacks packed, breakfast made, kids out of bed...husband out of bed... and everyone off to school with Daddy. I decided that it was 7:30 and being a morning off, I'd lay back down a bit before conquering the day. (You notice, I say "conquering" and not facing...I'm optimistic) As I lay there, I started to pray for my children. I often pray for their safety on the way to school...particularly because my husband is infamous for literally rolling out of bed and into his truck. I really never trust that he's fully awake while driving my precious cargo. Case in point, I made him coffee this morning and he left it on the counter and didn't realize it was missing till he hit 287...so that would be about 15 minutes into the trip already? Yeah, not good. So, anyway, I was praying for my kids' safety and began to think about their amazing qualities. Each of their smiling faces popped into my mind as I covered them in prayer and suddenly I felt a great sadness. I don't know why, but I was suddenly overwhelmed with the thought that my grandfather would have enjoyed these kids so much. Now, I truly believe that he sees them everyday from up on high, but I felt an acute sense of loss at that moment. I have no idea why...my grandfather passed away over 4 years ago.

My Pop-Pop was the eldest brother. He often spoke (OK, he was a talker!) of his younger siblings, and even into his late 70's referred to his sister Fran as "the baby". He apparently was born premature and sickly and then spent the rest of his life proving that he indeed was meant to be on this Earth and was the picture of strength and health. He was a caretaker from day 1 and took care of his siblings. He finished school in 8th grade and went on to work at a farm where he fine-tuned the greenest thumb to ever grace this planet (think 12' tomato plants).

Everyone should have a cherry tree.....

He studied to be a tailor (I can't help but think of Mickey Mouse as the Brave Little Tailor, defeating the giant) and was the only person I know who could fix a seemingly ruined sweater. He lied about his age so that he could join the Navy and fought bravely in WWII. Many stories of life at sea and in the Philippines filled our conversations my whole life. I never tired of them. He was an Irishman by birth, but had the complexion of a Puerto Rican and was referred to as, "Blackie" by his fellow servicemen. He was also one of the strongest men I've ever know. I remember seeing old movies of my grandfather throwing his kids around in the pool and wondering how in the world a father of 7 maintained an physique of Adonis (go Grandma!!).

Speaking of his children, besides my grandmother, they were his world. He confessed to me after I bought our house in West Milford that if he had a home like mine in the country, he would've had more than 7 children. My mother was slightly horrified by that revelation....He treated my grandmother like the most important woman in the world. Often filling vases with home-grown flowers and placing them on her kitchen table. He was a die-hard Yankees and Giants fan. So much so that at the end of his life, we wheeled his hospital bed into the living room so that he could watch the Giants lose. I often wish that the last game he saw, the Giants were a little less awful.

Besides his two great loves, his grandchildren were what he lived for. I was his first (lucky him!). When I fell as an insolent adolescent, he lifted me up. When I was a wayward young adult, he loved me and the results of my decisions with wild abandon. He became the most amazing Great-Grandfather to my son and was the predominant male-figure in his life for the first three years of Jason's life. At this point in his life he knew that his time on Earth was limited. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer, the same cancer that took his father, his brother, has afflicted two of his sons and right to this day is taking the life of his other brother. He spent the last 10 years of his life making sure that he left us all with as much of him as he could spare. He showed us all a faith and commitment to his faith that I still strive to emulate. He shared as many stories of his youth with us that we could digest. He built gardens with my son and planted seeds of love, understanding, strength and commitment that will carry my son throughout his life. He smiled, laughed, and cherished each and every one of his grandchildren and great grandchildren. Charlotte was the last great grandchild that he met. I remember lying her in his hospice bed during the end of his life and he would just light up. Suddenly the hallucinations that the medications brought on and the pain of his bed sores were gone and all he could do was focus on her sweet face. She beamed at him unaware of his bloated, sick body and saw only the perfect man that he was.

He's been gone for so long now, but every time the sun starts to set a little bit later, and the seeds need to be planted, or I have a glass of red, my grandfather is right next to me. He's helping guide my hand as I create the rows of tomatoes with my children as they find worms in the garden. He's understanding me when I wonder if this really is as good as it gets. He's so proud of each and every one of my children. He laughs at my feeble attempts at growing pumpkins. Each and every holiday, he is tangible as our family, that he held together along with my grandmother, comes together again and breaks bread, and laughs, and feasts and thanks the Lord that we have each other and know that we will all be together again in eternity.


Enjoying together the fruits of his labors.....


Miss you Pops.

The Luck of the Irish....

OK, so it's a little early to celebrate St. Patrick's Day with an Irish dish, but traditionally my family and I dine on corned beef and cabbage and an amazing soda bread recipe that I will share with you if you'd like....and I thought I'd like to try something a little different. So as not to upset the family-tradition-apple-cart, I decided to try my new recipe today. Irish Beef and Stout Stew....

I'm usually not a big fan of stew, with all that sub-par beef and runny gravy, but this recipe had beer in it. Yep, that's all it takes. That and anything that can be cooked in one big pot and constitute a meal is AOK in my book. Warning, this recipe is NOT healthy. Yes, I used all natural ingredients, but we start this thing out by stirring fatty cuts of beef in white flour...GASP! Soooo not 2011, but sooo what?!

So yes, beef, stir with flour...then it's really easy. You add tomato paste, potatoes (the recipe calls for whole-new potatoes, but I like little bits of potatoes so I diced), onions, and 10 garlic cloves!! You add beef broth and plenty of Irish Stout...I used Guinness. Salt and pepper to taste and voila! You're ready to cook.

You bring this wonderful pot of aromatics to a boil on the stove and then put it in the oven for about 3 hours. I wish I could post smells on here. Yum!! Then you clean your house for those 3 hours and put away the backyard toys that just emerged after the glacial melt, take a huge amount of detours to pick your kids up from school and wish you had an ark as you navigate back home. It's all worth it when you open your kitchen door and that smell welcomes you home.... add peas right at the end and serve with rice or maybe egg noodles and of course warm biscuits. The panel of judges concurred that the stew was very good. All but Charlotte that is, who doesn't eat much meat....she had yogurt. Again, I'm not a huge stew fan, but this one is hands down my favorite.




I went out on a limb tonight and made a homemade angel food cake for dessert. I didn't bother taking pictures of the process because when I bake there is a usually a comedy of errors (see facebook recipe of smoked scones). Today there was swearing (little less angel in my angel food?) and spilled egg whites (all 10 eggs-worth!) and let's just say that the lady bugs who are still living in my house since fall will have plenty of sugar to eat for awhile. That said, it was all worth it. An amazing, fluffy confection complete with a freshly made sauce of blueberries and strawberries got oohs and ahhs from my kids.




So there you have it...an Irish stew with a red white and blue American dessert. Happy St. Patty's Day everyone!

A Little Taste of India

OK, so let's start this one off with YUM! Yep, I just gave the plot away....but it was that yummy. I decided that it was time to try a new recipe and I went to my old-faithful cookbook. Now, don't laugh at me, but the Reader's Digest Live Longer Cookbook has added so many wonderful dishes to my regular reportoire. Whenever I want to try something healthy that I know is going to taste wonderful, that's my go-to. So tonight it was a pork-stew. Yeah, I know, doesn't sound too wonderful, but don't judge a book by its cover. I don't usually use pork. I find that it dries out too fast and I don't know, they call it the other white meat, but really? Well, it is cheap, so it has that going for it.




So we start by making a paste/sauce. This thing has so many ingredients that I absolutely love. Onion, cilantro, garlic, chilis, unsweetened coconut milk (that you make yourself), lime zest and lime juice. Can you smell it? I haven't even started "cooking" yet!




Next we brown the pork...oh yeah, they called for pork shoulder....I tried to buy pork shoulder, I really did, but it just looked too....porky? I settled on tenderloin...looks a lot more like chicken. You add the paste/sauce and simmer slowly...The aroma takes over your kitchen and you're tempted to do a little bit of yoga before the meal just to get into the mood....Ohmmmm Shanti.....







The recipe suggested having white rice as a side, but I thought I'd try my hand at couscous again. I looked up a bunch of recipes and decided to kind of wing it...I added fresh veggies and my own broth that included an amazing curry powder that my uncle supplies me with. He gets it from a co-worker from Africa. That's right, I have a spice dealer....This time my couscous fluffed up magically and was amazing. I wanted to add raisins and slivered almonds, but I knew that'd be a deal-breaker with the kids.



The verdict? Well, obviously I'm head-over-heals, but we all know that the little people have to like it too. Jason started the meal by explaining the parameters of comfortablity that he is willing to go when considering the ethnicity of food. Indian food, is not within those parameters. That said, he ate it and admitted that although he doesn't usually enjoy pork, this pork was good. The twins said that they loved it, but I never know if they're just brown-nosing...that said, they did eat it all. Luke was busy building his own sundae at Friendly's on a playdate....Charlotte claimed to hate it and die every time she took a bite but when Charlotte truly hates anything she won't actually eat it and this one she ate almost all of! So two-snaps with a twist! Definitely will make it again. Thank-you Reader's Digest!

I've had my eye on this recipe for awhile. I found it in an obscure soup cookbook and had never heard of anything like it before.....Beef and Onions in Red Wine Soup....yum right? OK, so maybe not for everyone but you have to understand that I come by this one honestly. My grandfather ate a steady diet of steak accompanied with red wine. I mean, like 3-4 times a week you could find him devouring this meal with such gusto and refilling that wine goblet afterwards with such a satisfied look on his face. My grandfather knew how to live life and he knew how to eat! So maybe it was a little bit of nostalgia that attracted me to this recipe.

Let me start off by saying that my esteemed panel of judges were not expected to try this one. I knew that Jason may have been the only one who would like it and the thyme in the recipe pretty much made even that a far stretch. That said, I did get the vegetarian husband to sample the broth and he agreed it was good. To start this soup you had to create the broth. I was surprised that the base of the soup included cubed beef (don't tell vegetarian husband!), carrots, onions, garlic and turnips. I'm not sure that I've ever put those ingredients together before. Let me just tell you that after sauteing this concoction in a little bit of butter, the kitchen began to smell heavenly.


After browned, you add a 1/2 c. of red wine (I bought cheap and dry) and 1/2 c. of beef broth. You boil this until there is barely any liquid left....I'm really not sure what this creates, but I think it has something to do with infusing the wine/broth flavor into the base ingredients.


I then got to do something else I've never done before and made a bouquet garni which is basically a bag o'spices. It involved cheese cloth, and fresh herbs such as parsley, bay leaf and thyme. You add your bag o'spices to your base ingredients and a whole lotta wine and broth.



OK, this is starting out really well.....After simmering for 2 hours (yeah I know, who has the time? Trust me it's worth it!) you strain the solids and discard. Wait, hold the phone, throw out a wine-infused "stew" of beef and veggies?! Not this Dutch girl!....I saved it and plan on using it as a base for a stew to serve over egg noodles.....So now that we have this amazing rich broth you can keep it as it is, or thin it out a bit. I chose to add about a cup of cold water (use only cold water when adding to broth otherwise the broth will get cloudy) to thin it out a bit and I was very satisfied. Now onto the fun! You brown another pound of cubed beef (I used a lovely marbled piece of beef loin shell steak) for a few minutes on the stove and then roast it in a 500 degree oven for 20 minutes


.....in the meantime you caramelize onions with lots of thyme (I love thyme btw, it's such a fresh herb!). Bringing the broth to a boil once more you add some cremini mushrooms and fresh chopped chives. You only cook the shrooms and chives for 4 minutes and then take the soup off the stove.


Taking a hefty helping of those yummy onions and placing them in the center of your soup bowl, you pour the broth over the onions and then add as much of that roasted meat as you want. I opted to eat this with a crusty bread accompanied by smoked cheddar.

So how was it? It was amazing! The flavor was multi-layered...there was so much depth to it with the spices in the background and the wine in the forefront. The sweet onions were just the perfect bedfellow to the mushrooms and beef. You could certainly serve a crispy green salad with this but definitely have that crusty bread along for the ride! Enjoy!

Let's Go to Morrocco!

OK so I was inspired by my friend Stephanie Steen to start sharing some of my more daring recipe experiences via my blog. Today's judges are yours truly and 5 very opinionated children. Tonight's new try was Moroccan Tangine of Chicken accompanied by Moroccan Couscous....See a theme here? OK so first off let me say that anytime my kids get wind that I will be trying a new recipe panic sets in. I'm not sure exactly why as many of my "new" recipes have become family favorites, (i.e. pasta with pesto, fish tacos, shrimp bake and much more). It must be like when something traumatic happens and we just seem to remember them more clearly. There were a few failures although I've blocked them out....So where were we? The chicken. So what exactly is a Tangine? Just as the cook in many American kitchens has her own potato salad recipe, in Morocco, the tangine is the dish that is defined household by household. In a nutshell it's an easy braised stew This dish called for either skinless, boneless thighs or skinless, boneless breasts. You could also use a combination of both. I prefer thighs when I'm making a slow simmer dish and opted for organic thighs. The dish starts with a spice rub that included Hungarian sweet paprika, ground ginger, turmeric and black pepper. After cooking the chicken in a little olive oil for 3 minutes on each side in a non-stick skillet you remove the chicken and cut it into strips. Add onion, fresh plum tomatoes, salt and garbanzo beans and you simmer this fragrant dish covered. While the chicken was simmering I moved on to the dish that made me the most nervous.

Can You Just Smell This?!

The Moroccan couscous. Now, I've made couscous before but it has come out of a box. This was my first attempt at making it from scratch. This delicious dish came from my favorite website allrecipes.com It included toasting some interesting spices that included ginger, garlic, cayenne, cumin, cardamon, coriander and allspice. Onions, sweet red peppers, raisins, garbanzo beans, zucchini, orange zest and a broth of chicken broth and orange juice made my kitchen smell amazing!! After the concoction boils you mix in the couscous and cover, removing it from the heat until the couscous absorbs the liquid and fluffs up. Here's where I ran into a problem. My couscous never exactly did that. I tried cooking it a little longer, soaking it longer and well, it never really fluffed up.

The Spices and Orange Zest Were Amazing!

I wasn't calling it a failure yet, so I garnished my chicken with freshly chopped cilantro, skipped the fresh mint garnish that was called for in the original couscous recipe and dished out the aromatic food.

OK B- for Presentation

My kids saw the food and the whining started immediately. After I reminded them that this is not a restaurant and whatever I cook is what they eat, they reluctantly started to try it. Jason said the chicken was edible in spite of his two least favorite ingredients in it (tomato and garbanzo beans). He definitely didn't love the couscous, but he cleared his dish and walked away grumbling something about starving to death. OK so 1 fail. Charlotte's vote doesn't really count here because unless it's tacos or macaroni and cheese she pretty much says she hates it. That said, she did eat all of her chicken and some of the couscous. Luke ate everything with gusto except for the zucchini which he picked out. Maddie ate it all and Gwen who doesn't like chicken actually went back for seconds. My opinion was that it was quite excellent. The couscous didn't have that fluffiness that I was looking for but the flavors were amaaaazing! The chicken was great too, but I felt that it needed a little more salt. So votes.... 1-No Way, 2-Maybes and 3-More, More! Will definitely make again!

Leftovers Anyone?!

Well, I started having dreams about tropical locations while asleep the other night. That means one thing.....it's the dead of winter. It's interesting that something primordial inside of me immediately rejects reality and brings me to places of warm tranquility in my subconsciousness when the harsh reality of...well reality...is sub-zero wind chills and feet of snow.

When I was a kid I used to love this time of year. I remember listening for the firehouse sirens at 7am which would signal a snow day. If there was a snow day I didn't go back to bed. Oh no, I used every ounce of that day to do the things that I couldn't do while wearing the shackles of a student. I watched early morning cartoons until my Peanuts eye-glasses needed a stronger prescription. I donned my snow gear, (Which, btw, never consisted of snow pants. I'm sure they were invented when I was a kid, but apparently my parents never heard of them because I knew it was time to come in from my fun when my Jordache jeans were soaked straight through, frozen stiff again and my legs burned with the warning signs of severe frost-bite), went outside and played until well, see my side-bar... We'd go to the County Park, rub the rust off of our sled blades and cruised down that hill over and over again. I remember snow piled so high in my front yard that I'd climb it and be as tall as the second floor windows. Snow men with real coal for eyes and buttons were built in my backyard. I'd come inside to a steaming hot cup of Ovaltine with marshmallows and my mother would lay all of my wet snow gear on the furnace so that I could go back out again. I remember fondly the hissing of the radiators as they dried my mittens and I'd curl up next to them and play with my toys until everything was dry.

Not to be too nostalgic, but what the heck happened? Now, when I get the automated call in the morning or blessedly the night before, I breath a sigh of relief because I know that I don't have to wake up at the crack of dawn. I sleep right through those early morning cartoons. I use my day to catch up on organizing, dusting and laundry. When the kids start to kill each other I throw them out in the snow. They don't have to trudge 1/2 a mile to the park to sled and yet they complain. We have a few great hills right in our own backyard and inevitably they're in the house faster than it took me to get them in all of that snow gear, which yes, includes snow pants! They of couse want hot chocolate and so I whip them up some Drostes on the stove with organic cane sugar, complete with Jet-Puffed marshmallows and then promptly throw their gear into the dryer so that if they do want to go back out it's all ready for them. Boots are toasted by the wood-burning stove even....yet....they never seem to want to go back out there. This is when the cabin fever sets in for Sara.

I often wondered if we were a snow-sports family if winter would be a little more fun. After looking into the cost of being a snow-sports family, I quickly decided that $1500 for just the kids wasn't possible for us and would actually make for a nice vacation for me and the hubby. Not that we have $1500. So without the chance of being snow bunnies, what's a girl/mom to do?

Oh we cook together...henceforth I put on my winter coat of extra weight. We play games....did I ever tell you how good I am at "Pictureka!"? We do go out sledding in the yard....I threw my back out last year but so far so good this year. I dream of ice skating, but again it's not so cost effective. Not to mention I actually find that once I get out into that cold...gasp....I'm cold! I mean really, really, cold. Like old-lady cold. Like, give me a hot cup of tea and an afghan because I really don't like this stuff anymore, cold. Don't get me wrong, I push through it. Never to be a quitter, I go hiking in the snow, take the kids out, stand at the slopes to watch my 14 year-old snowboard. I just would prefer it to be about 60 degrees warmer, that's all. I know, I know, we're not supposed to rush these things. We should revel in all that life gives us as it's just a fleeting moment and will all be done in a flash. I can't help but feel...blah, blah, blah...yadda, yadda, yadda to that one.

I will admit, I love the beauty of nature the day after a heavy snowfall. The way the snow covers everything in a sparkling coat of white. I value the comfort of a warm blanket while listening to the wind whistling outside. I love the crackle of the wood in the wood-burning stove and the soft hiss of the kettle on top. I enjoy the savory creations in the crock-pot that help to warm our insides. I just can't help but look forward to the crocuses popping their heads up. The pussy-willows soft buds appearing. The vibrant yellows of forsythia and deep purples of lilacs decorating my property.

I won't rush winter away....what choice do I have I'm not Mother-time? I will keep that bin of snow-gear ready in my dining room. I will keep a box of Droste's Dutch cocoa stocked in the pantry. I'll continue to mop up the melted snow on my kitchen floor. I'll play play referee to the cabin-fevered children. I'll make as many snowmen as I possibly can. I will wake up early to help my daughter prepare a crock-pot meal for us all. I'll just continue to do it all with one eye on the warmer seasons with the fragrance of sweet flowers in the air and the opportunity to shed my winter layers and come out of hibernation with a new found appreciation for the time of year where everything seems to wake up and come to life. I guess that includes Spring sports, dance recitals, violin concerts, graduations and the parties that follow, and the craziness of the end of the school year. Now that I think of it, this time of year isn't so bad after all. :)

Not much to say.....but so much to say

Mourning is a many-faceted state of being. My sweet brother in law Tim passed away this week and this has been a week that can best be described as having a tornado rip through your life. I have felt sadness, fear, loneliness, gratefulness, unbelievable love, and shear exhaustion....sometimes all in the span of 2 minutes. There is no right or wrong to mourning, you just have to go with what is natural for you. It's hard and frightening to trust the process, both in your own life and in the live's of your loved ones. I am amazed as to how different the process is for each person and how that process changes day to day, moment to moment.

As a mother, watching my children mourn has been heartbreaking. I've seen it before only once when my grandfather passed away 4 years ago. It affected them so much that my daughter's still pray for Pop-Pop every night. This situation is so different for so many reasons. This was not an elderly, sick grandfather but a vibrant, young uncle. Someone my children could relate to on a different level than they could with their own parents. Uncle Tim was closer in age to them. He was fun, funny, loving, giving and always made time for his nieces and nephews. Also, he was seemingly healthy and happy. That makes this so much scarier for my kids. "Why did he die?" "Is what he had contagious?" "Are you or Daddy going to die too?" "When are we going to see him again?" Trying to answer these difficult questions often leaves me feeling utterly inadequate and hardly up to the task. Some questions are even more heartbreaking, "Does this mean we'll never get to wake him up again?" "You mean we can't play X-box anymore with him?" "Are grandma and grandpa OK?" I wish that I had the balm for their broken hearts, but I know that I can only offer them prayers, my love and lots of hugs. Time and God will take care of the rest.

This is my first experience watching my spouse go through a devastating loss. I'm not sure what my role is here. Do I give him space? Do I insist on keeping him grounded in some regular activities? How do I allow him his process while still protecting my children and making sure that they are getting what they need from their father? How do I deal with the fear and loneliness I feel as I lose him to this? It is so hard to watch the people you love suffer so deeply and to be utterly powerless to help them. I know full well that he has to go through his grief in his own way and I continue to pray for patience, compassion and understanding as his wife.

As a mother, seeing my mother and father-in-law suffering through this loss is one of the most heartbreaking things I have ever had to witness. I can't help but put myself in their places. Just earlier this evening as I was carrying my sleeping 4-year-old to bed I realized that she is my 5th baby as Tim was their 5th baby and I could never imagine burying my sweet baby, no matter how old she was. There must be a hole in their hearts so enormous that must seem to go on forever. Yet their amazing strength, love and just about the best hugs you've ever experience, is their very real legacy.

Then there is my very own loss. This one is especially complicated as I feel as if I don't have the time to feel it. I know how important it is for me to allow myself the time to feel my loss, but I am being pulled away from it so that I can be there for my loved ones. I still have to make sure the beds are made, the meals are cooked, the laundry is washed, the kids are clean....and on and on. When I do have the downtime to really feel my loss I don't welcome the pain, and it is very painful for me.

I met Tim right before his 12th birthday. Bill and I were a very new couple, but already we knew that we were both in it for the long-haul. Bill invited me over for church and Sunday dinner and at that dinner they were going to celebrate Tim's 12th birthday. I remember clearly all of us singing and Tim blowing out the candles on the cake and with that sweet blond head of hair and big blue eyes Tim smiled and said, "Yep, next year I'll be a teenager and I'll hate my parents for no reason." I knew at that moment that I loved this kid! He was adorable and so clever! I remember when he was so young, he was very protective of me and when I was struggling with some difficult things at that time he was always very verbal as to how he was going to protect me. I still have the little black-bear Beanie Baby he bought me for Christmas. I had the honor of watching that baby-faced boy grow into a handsome young man who could play soccer, and play bass and speak French. I got to take him to his first show at the Limelight and introduced him to one of my friends, a guitarist that he truly idolized and had hoped to play with one day. Tim and I often had heart-to-heart conversations. I don't know why, but he seemed to feel as if he could share things with me that he wasn't comfortable sharing with his parents or siblings and I felt honored that this intelligent young man trusted me so much. I remember the compassion he possessed for me too. When Bill and I first got married, I got pregnant almost immediately. I lost that pregnancy at the end of my first trimester and Tim was one of the first people to check on me. He was crying a little bit and he was so young but he really was concerned and wasn't too proud to show it. As the years progressed and as more babies were born Tim was always so anxious to be one of the first people to hold his new nieces or nephews. He'd visit in the hospital and so comfortably hold those newborn babies with a confidence that most young guys his age didn't possess. As the kids grew he made time for them in so many ways. Whether it was playing video games, or giving out bubble gum, or showing up to the father/son soccer game for Jay when Bill couldn't be there, Tim truly loved his nieces and nephews. In the most recent years Tim kind of holed-up in his room more, but would always come out when I stopped by during the days and evenings where I had to use my in-law's house as a "home base" while carting kids to and from activities in Bergen County because my own home was 20 minutes away. I'd make a pot of coffee and we'd sit together shortly and chat. I always tried to get him talking about things as I could tell he was suffering or at least struggling. He often didn't need my prompting and would open up to me.

He was always there to stand in when I needed an on the spot babysitter. Just 5 days before he passed, he helped watch Maddie on the morning that she had an asthma attack and I had to go to work. Sometimes he'd help me out just by sitting in the van while one of my kids napped and I had to run into a store.

The funny thing is what I'm going to miss about him most is the little things. The way that his hands were always playing some bass line while he was standing there talking with you. Sitting across from him every Sunday meal watching him make a lake with his mashed potatoes and gravy. Enduring his constant ribbing over my dislike of greenbeans...."What's the matter Sara? Aren't my mother's green beans good?" "I'll eat the green beans Tim if you eat the asparagus." The conversations over the latest movies we saw. That scruffy face and touseled hair as he stumbled up the stairs at 3:30pm to grab a smoke, say hi to the kids and get ready for bass lessons. Just his dry and yet so insightful, if not sarcastic, sense of humor that was so intelligent and could get me laughing like nothing else will so be missed.

I really wanted to see Tim live out his dreams of being a musician. Maybe see him play with Maddie. I had dreams for Tim that he didn't share. I wanted to see him married and I wanted to love the nieces and nephews that he was going to give me. I wanted to pay him back with supplying them with too much gum and baggies of quarters. I wanted to be able to make jokes at his expense and love them on a level that only an aunt or uncle could.


With him gone, those dreams are gone. I will say that every cloud truly has a silver lining though. As much as I loathe cliches, I have seen that silver lining even in the midst of this horrible tragedy. I have seen the hearts of my husband and in laws like I have never experienced in the 12 years I've been in this family. Usually quiet and holding their emotions close to the cuff, I've experienced the true depth of love that exists in the hearts of my mother-in-law, father-in-law and brothers and sisters-in-law. This has been a real gift that I don't think would have ever been realized without this tragedy. I've been allowed to take care of my mother-in-law who had barely allowed me to make so much as a meal for her all of the years that we've been family. I've been loved by so many people that my heart bursts and tears come down every time I consider the acts of loving kindness that have been shown to me and my family. I was able to see a strength and eloquence in my husband that I had never witnessed before. I have felt free to express my true love and gratitude in a way that I normally would be too shy or embarrassed to express. I've also witness the miracle of the gift of grace that the Holy Spirit brings.

I've had the honor of reading his journal and it struck so close to home for me as a lot of my journal entries at his age were similar. The darkness he often felt, coupled with the gift of writing that he possesed and the amazing insight of a special man truly resonated with me. The real relationship he allowed himself to have with his journal was one that I could relate to.

I just wish that he could have felt the love that others had for him. I wish that he knew just how much he was not alone. I wish that he knew that his nieces and nephews would forever be changed with his passing and that his entire family would forever have a dark cloud lingering in their hearts. I know that it never pays to dwell on the should've, could've, would'ves so I won't dwell on that. I will, however, hold onto the strength that God has been gracing me with, the amazing gift of the love that I experience from my friends, and the immeasurable blessing that my family is. I choose to remember Tim often and fondly. To celebrate his short life every moment I get and to honor it by encourgaing my children to be who they are and to love who they are and to know that they are never alone and worthy of love because God loved them first.